


Chase Away the Pain

by fiddleyoumust



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: Freddie gets hurt. Auston takes care of him or Corey Perry is the DEVIL and here's 1k words of pure SAP. Unbetaed.





	Chase Away the Pain

Freddie’s resting on the sofa in the dark when he hears a soft knock. He thinks about ignoring it for a minute, but he knows who it is. Knows he won’t be easily dissuaded. 

Auston looks tired, cheeks pink from the cold and hair still wet from his post game shower.

“You didn’t need to come by,” Freddie says immediately, even as Auston pushes his way in, puts his hand gently on Freddie’s jaw and turns his head to see the bruise blooming at Freddie’s temple and cheek.

“Shut up,” Auston says and runs his thumb over the bruise before turning and shutting the door.

Auston stares at him and Freddie stares back until Auston looks away, laughing at himself a little.

“Did we win?” Freddie asks.

Auston huffs, shoulders tense, and says, “Of course we fucking won. Fuck the fucking Ducks.”

The tension running through Auston is palpable. Freddie’s not used to it. Auston is always Mr. Serious with hockey media, but that’s not the Auston Freddie usually gets. Not here in the dark of Freddie’s house where they can be alone -- be themselves.

“Not my particular choice of fuck buddies,” Freddie says softly, and that does the trick. 

Auston huffs again and rolls his eye. “Is that what I am?” he asks, raising an eyebrown, but his shoulders ease down from where he’s been holding them up around his ears, so Freddie knows he’s successfully broken the tension.

“You know what you are,” Freddie says maybe a tad too seriously.

Auston walks toward Freddie and just keeps walking until they’re chest to chest and Auston’s face is buried in Freddie’s neck.

Freddie wraps his arms around him, kisses his temple and whispers, “I’m okay.”

“I know,” Auston says finally wrapping his own arms around Freddie and squeezing tight.

Freddie knows he does know, but he also knows rational thought is not always your friend when feelings get involved. It wasn’t too long ago Auston was the one with a bruised head and a concussion. 

Auston steps away and asks, “What did the doctors say?”

“Mild concussion. I’ll probably miss a few games. No prolonged television watching, video game playing, phone use. No strenuous activities. Lots of rest. The usual,” Freddie says.

Auston nods and says, “Did you eat?”

“Yeah. Made myself a sandwich an hour ago.”

Auston studies him like he’s trying to figure out if Freddie’s lying or not which is hilarious. If anyone is going to lie about nutrition it’s Auston because he’s 20 fucking years old and the savior of the Maple Leafs and you can’t be both and make trainers and nutritionists happy all the time.

Whatever Auston sees must satisfy him though because he grabs Freddie’s hand and leads them down the hall to Freddie’s room. It’s pitch black inside but Auston manages to find his way to the bed with no effort at all.

He turns around and starts peeling off Freddie’s clothes with the same ease as he navigated the room, the same easy familiarity. Freddie shivers when Auston’s fingertips glance over his stomach.

“Sorry,” Auston mumbles, pulling Freddie’s shirt off, making sure to be extra gentle as he pulls it over Freddie’s head. 

Once Freddie’s naked Auston pulls the covers back and pushes Freddie down onto the bed before shedding his own clothes and climbing in after him. Freddie feels him holding himself stiffly, leaving space between their bodies.

“Get over here,” Freddie says, skimming his fingers down Auston’s arm.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Auston says, but he scoots closer and rests his head gently on Freddie’s shoulder. 

Freddie reaches down for his hand and twists their fingers together, brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses Auston’s knuckles. He’s feeling particularly fond, his heart thumping thickly like it’s trying to beat while submerged in water. He knows when he’s feeling better Auston’s going to give him shit about it, but right now he seems to be feeling just as soft as Freddie is.

“So,” Auston says around an exhale. “No video games and no strenuous activities?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Freddie says, smiling into Auston’s hair. 

“Hockey, sex, and NHL 18 are pretty much the entire basis for our relationship,” Auston says. “What are we going to do with ourselves?”

Freddie laughs, his chest tight with affection, and says, “We might have to talk or something.”

“Hmm,” Auston says.

Freddie kisses his forehead and asks, “How was your day dear?”

“Mixed bag,” Auston says, turning into Freddie’s body so he can look up at Freddie’s face. “Won a hockey game and scored a goal but my boyfriend got hurt. How was yours?”

Freddie holds his breath and looks at Auston’s face, sees the nervous set of his mouth and the way his eyes hold Freddie’s like he’s daring him to say anything about the “b” word. There’s a million things they should talk about. Everything about them as a couple is Complicated. 

Auston’s probably too young, but Freddie’s old enough to know the way Auston makes him feel is rare and precious. He wants whatever is happening between them to keep happening. He wants to selfishly have this until he can’t anymore.

“Mixed bag,” Freddie says. “Got hurt, but my team won a hockey game and my boyfriend scored a goal.”

Auston smiles, cheeks pink with pleasure and Freddie thinks, “I did that. I made him look like that,” as Auston pushes up to his elbow and kisses Freddie deep and warm. 

Freddie closes his eyes and chases the kiss, chases the feeling for as long as he can.


End file.
